For Better or Worse
by turnadette
Summary: One night changes things. Can Shelagh and Patrick recover? Turnadette. Shulienne. Originally posted on Wordpress.
1. Chapter 1

_Hi! For those of two that have been reading this on Wordpress, unfortunately I have been having issues with my account and haven't been able to login, so I have decided to post this fic here. Once I have posted the first three chapters (which were previously posted on Wordpress) I will post the brand new chapter 4 and continue this fic (and any other writing that takes my fancy) on this site! Also, please note for those of you who have not previously read this fic, that I am putting a **TRIGGER WARNING** at the beginning of each chapter. I will keep it rated T for now, because I haven't added any details, but should I decide to in the future, I will move the rating to M and pre-warn you that I am doing so (I don't think I will, but just in case). The second chapter and third chapters will be up later tonight and/or tomorrow morning :) All main characters belong to BBC, Neal Street Productions, Jennifer Worth and Heidi Thomas!_

* * *

She closed the front door behind her as quietly as she could and leaned against it heavily as she tried to silence her tears. Patrick and the children would be asleep, and right now she couldn't deal with any of them. She just needed a bath and to forget this day. Heaving herself from the door, Shelagh made her way to the bathroom and ran a bath. She stripped herself of her uniform as quickly as she could - she would need to ask Sister Julienne for another one - and sank into the tub. She scrubbed her arms and legs vigorously, desperately wanting to wash away what had happened as she sobbed. She felt unclean. She needed the smell out of her nostrils and the dirty feeling off her skin.

"Shelagh?" She heard, after two gentle knocks sounded at the door. "My love, are you alright?"

"I'm fine." She replied, trying with all her might to regain her breathing as she finally stepped out of the bath and wrapped herself in a towel. Realising she had no nightclothes in the bathroom, Shelagh cursed under her breath. Patrick would see the bruises on her arms and ask questions. What was she going to say? She wasn't ready to even think about what happened yet, let alone talk about it! "I'll be out in a minute. Can you bring me a nightdress please?" She called back. Perhaps she could dress in here and Patrick wouldn't need to see her undressed tonight. That would buy her some time.

"Of course." A few minutes later, two more gentle knocks sounded before Patrick began to open the bathroom door. "Here you are."

"Thank you." Shelagh all but snatched the nightdress from his hands before closing the door once more so she could dress.

As she put the nightdress on, she realised which one Patrick had chosen and the tears began to flow once more. This was the nightdress she wore on their wedding night. She could hardly face wearing this but it would have to do tonight. Sighing, she put it on before wiping her face and going into her bedroom.

"There's my girl." Patrick smiled at her. He was sitting up in bed. He'd obviously been waiting for her, and from the look on his face, had something other than sleep in mind for tonight.

Shelagh slunk into bed and turned away from him. She just wanted to close her eyes and sleep today away. She felt Patrick's arm curl round her waist as he shuffled closer to her back. She knew exactly what he wanted, but she couldn't. As he began to place gentle kisses on her neck, she squirmed away.

"Not tonight, Patrick." Both of them were silent for a moment. This was the first time she had rejected his advances since an attempt the week after she had had her exploratory operation in Harley Street. Shelagh sensed in Patrick's breathing that he was hurt. "I'm sorry, I'm just tired." This was only half a lie, she was exhausted after the events of the day.

"Alright, goodnight my love." Patrick replied, understanding tinged with concern evident in his voice as he kissed her cheek before moving back onto his own side of the bed.

As Patrick drifted into a deep slumber, no sleep would come for Shelagh. Every time she closed her eyes, she felt _his_ heavy breathing in her ear, _his_ hands on her arms, _his_ body trapping hers against the wall, and she felt physically sick.

* * *

 _Thanks for reading :)_


	2. Chapter 2

_Hello all! Like I said in the first chapter, **TRIGGER WARNING** for this fic! Also, I apologise that the chapters are quite short, but I am trying to make them longer. I am also trying to deal with this topic as sensitively as possible, however if anyone feels that I could make any changes please don't hesitate to let me know; I honestly do really appreciate constructive criticism. Chapter three should be up very soon, and as always, all of the main characters belong to the wonderful Jennifer Worth and Heidi Thomas!_

* * *

Shelagh bolted upright and gasped. Sitting for a few seconds, she tried to steady her breathing. Sunlight was beginning to stream into the bedroom and she looked at the clock; five-thirty. Patrick would be up in half an hour, Timothy would be getting out of bed and ready for school shortly, and Angela would be wanting her breakfast soon, no doubt.

Feeling her husband begin to stir beside her, Shelagh decided to get up. She had to keep herself busy until he left for work, then she could think over the events of last night. she needed to get her head straight before she faced any questions. Being off work today with only Angela for company would give her time to come to terms with it all, she hoped.

She dressed quickly and quietly, expertly avoiding her reflection in both the bathroom mirror and the one on her vanity. Ten years of life in the habit had taught her hot not to look, how to dress so quickly skin barely showed at all. That's what she needed today, she thought with a scoff; her habit would have come in handy at the moment if she was still a nun! She managed to avoid seeing the bruises today. She knew they would look much darker, much more aggressive than they had done last night, so she lifted the first cardigan she found and slipped her arms through it.

"Something smells delicious," Patrick announced, walking into the kitchen a little later, dressed and holding a sleepy Angela.

Turning to look at them, Shelagh smiled as she watched Patrick place Angela into her highchair, before turning back to her task of frying the eggs. Feeling two arms snake around her waist startled her as she jumped and her stomach lurched.

"Shelagh, are you alright?" Patrick asked, looking at her worried.

"Sorry, I'm fine. You just startled me." Wriggling out of his embrace, she grabbed two plates. "Can you go and make sure Tim's up? Breakfast's ready." She asked as she began to plate up the food for her boys.

Patrick stood still for a moment just watching her. "Of course."

Less than an hour later Patrick and Timothy were ready to leave for work and school respectively. As Timothy rushed out the door with a quick "Bye!", Patrick gave both of his girls a kiss on the cheek with the promise of another when he got home later. As was routine now, Patrick would lift Angela up, and she would get a cuddle and kiss on the cheek first before being passed to Mummy at the front door where she would then get her kiss. This little family tradition had begun when Angela was only a week old, with Patrick barely wanting to part with his new little angel so Shelagh would bring her to the front door to see her Daddy off to work. Now Angela was a year old, it was Patrick's favourite part of the day.

As Angela squirmed in Shelagh's arms to go back to her Daddy, Patrick chuckled. "I've told you before, Miss Angela; you'll get another kiss and cuddle when Daddy gets home from work. Be good for Mummy now." He looked at Shelagh before leaning down to kiss her too. Feeling her flinch slightly though, his concern for her grew. Quietly, he said to her, "I think we need to have a talk tonight, yes?"

Shelagh could do nothing than silently nod in agreement, but she didn't want to talk. She didn't want to tell Patrick what had happened. She didn't want to tell anyone. She just wanted to forget about it and move on.

Smiling at his girls, Patrick got into his car and set off for work. Closing he door behind her, Shelagh sighed. This was the first time she actually wished that Patrick would be called out to attend a tricky birth after work. Coming to her senses, she berated herself for thinking such a thing as she set Angela down in her playpen and she went into her bedroom. At the side of her bed, she got down on her knees and prayed with all her might that He might somehow remove the events of last night from her brain, and put everything back to normal.

* * *

 _Please feel free to comment :)_


	3. Chapter 3

_I know, I'm terrible! Apologies, I wanted to post this when I got up this morning but I completely forgot! Anyway, I'll shut up now and will upload the new chapter 4 in about an hour, so lookout for that! As before, **TRIGGER WARNING** for delicate issues! And all rights go to the amazing Jennifer Worth and Heidi Thomas!_

* * *

All day Shelagh could think of nothing but what she was going to tell Patrick when he got home. Should she tell him the truth, or just pretend she had just been tired after the long birth of Mrs Wilson's new son? This internal debate continued throughout the day as she struggled to maintain her emotions.

It was just after lunchtime when Shelagh noticed Angela yawning. Deciding it was time for a nap, she laid her daughter into her cot in the bedroom, before making herself a cup of tea and stepping through to the living room. She would just sit for a few minutes, gather her thoughts and then tackle washing her uniform, which was still sitting in a crumpled heap in the corner of the bathroom floor. Even the thought of that uniform now made her stomach lurch. _He_ had touched her through that uniform. It held the dirt-filled stains from when _he_ held her to the ground, pressed himself against her, against that uniform, and did things to her she'd never imagined could ever be so forceful, painful and unwanted! Patrick had always made her feel like it was the most natural, beautiful thing in the world. That however, wasn't natural or beautiful! Shelagh wasn't sure if she'd ever get over this feeling of nauseating disgust every time she even thought of being intimate with Patrick again.

She had to tell him. She knew that. He was a doctor, he would understand. He'd seen this happen to other girls, other women before. But she wasn't any other woman, she was his wife. What if in some way he would feel she'd cheated on him? What if he now saw her as damaged? Broken? Used? What if he was no longer attracted to her in that way? And, how would she cope with his pity glances? Shelagh wasn't sure if she could ever get over the events of last night. They would forever be etched on her mind, she knew that. Maybe she would never be ready to be intimate with Patrick again.

As a headache came on, Shelagh needed a distraction. Deciding that it was now or never to wash her uniform and rid the physical evidence of the dirt from the ground, she grabbed the garment from the bathroom floor, ran the bath and let it soak. As the material floated through the water, she noticed a tear in the shoulder and another at the neck. Perhaps she should just throw this one away and ask Sister Julienne for another. A clean one, that wasn't tainted with shame, disgust, hurt. Another thought occurred to her; Sister Julienne would want to know why she needed a new uniform and why Shelagh had thrown this one away. She couldn't tell her. At least, not yet. No, once she got the stains out, this one would have to do. If Patrick was called out tonight, she would mend it before he noticed anything out of sorts.

After a while, Shelagh returned to the living room. Her tea was now cold, but she didn't care, she hadn't even wanted it. Making it had been another distraction. Sitting down once again with nothing to do, the tears began to flow, the images flashing through her mind. She should have screamed louder, fought harder, and maybe then none of this would have happened. Maybe everything would still be normal.

The slam of the front door jolted her awake. Sitting up further, Shelagh realised she had nodded off on the sofa. She had been both physically and mentally exhausted and had cried herself to sleep. As she heard Patrick's distinct footfalls coming down the hall, her heart dropped.

"I'm home!"

She couldn't tell him.

* * *

 _Thanks for reading, and Happy Halloween :)_


	4. Chapter 4

_Happy Halloween, everyone! I'm so sorry to those of you who were reading this on Wordpress! I know it has taken taken me ages to update but here it finally is! I had this half written but then I got a bit stuck and then my health deteriorated a bit and I've been in and out of hospital so things have been a bit hectic here. But the next chapter should be along very soon! **TRIGGER WARNING** as always! Also, I understand that this is a very sensitive issue I am writing about, and I am dealing with it as carefully as possibly, but if you have any issues with what I have written or how I have described what the characters are going through, please don't hesitate in contacting me! All rights go to Jennifer Worth and Heidi Thomas! _

* * *

Earlier in the day, Patrick was sitting at his desk. As he tapped his pen against his paperwork, his mind began to wonder to Shelagh. Why had she been acting so strange last night and this morning? It was like she couldn't bear to be in the same room as him. She couldn't even look him in the eye.

A sinking feeling swarmed him; perhaps Shelagh was going off him. Maybe the very thing he had constantly been dreading was happening. Shelagh had finally realised that she deserved better than him, and was regretting her decision to marry him. What if she had met someone else?

Shaking himself as he felt his insides churn, Patrick decided to get on with his paperwork. Whatever was the matter, he would find out and put it right. Tonight.

After dinner Shelagh put Angela to bed, taking as long as she could to avoid spending time alone with Patrick. She knew he wanted to talk but she didn't know if she was strong enough to provide the answers.

"Tea?" Patrick asked from the kitchen hatch as Shelagh returned to the living room. Timothy was staying with Granny Parker tonight, and Shelagh wished more than anything that tonight he could be in his bedroom listening to his wireless, or playing with his spitfire (that he assured his parents he was far too old for, but still flew around the privacy of his bedroom), or reading well into the night when he should be sleeping. Checking on Timothy would have provided another distraction from the conversation she was about to have with Patrick. Timothy was the strongest boy she knew she knew, and she needed his strength.

"Yes please."

As he brought in two cups from the kitchen, Patrick sat next to Shelagh on the sofa. For a few minutes, a pregnant pause filled the air as the couple sipped their tea, each willing the other to say something. Anything.

"So," Patrick began apprehensively. This was it, Shelagh thought. "What happened last night?"

Shelagh gulped. "What do you mean?"

"You've been quiet since you got home. Did something happen? Something with Mrs Watson's labour?" Looking his wife in the eye and taking her hand, he continued. "My love, you know you can tell me anything."

Before she could help it, tears slowly began to trail down her cheeks, one after another.

"Shelagh, please talk to me."

Looking into the brown eyes of her husband, Shelagh saw nothing but love and devotion. Taking a breath, she knew he was there for her.

"I'm sorry," She whispered. "I'm so, so sorry." She'd said these words before, with the same tears running down her beautiful pale face, and his left hand in her right, each gripping for anchorage, when Timothy was ill with Polio and they weren't yet married. Her tears quickened in pace and force.

Holding her hand tighter, Patrick shifted further in his seat to face her. "For what, my love? What happened?"

Shelagh was breaking down in front of him and he was powerless. He had never seen her so broken or dejected before, not even when they got the infertility results.

Her silent tears had turned into quiet sobs as she finally let the emotion of the last twenty-four hours envelope her. "I tried to fight, I promise I did. I tried to push him off me but he was too strong."

Piece by piece, through Shelagh's sobs, Patrick put the puzzle together. "Shelagh," Letting go of her hand and holding her by each shoulder, he looked directly into her tearful blue eyes. "Did someone hurt you? Were you - ?" He couldn't finish. The thought made him feel sick.

With the smaller of nods, her words came out as no more than a quiet whisper, but he heard them loud and clear.

"I was raped."

* * *

 _Thanks for reading :)_


End file.
